


Hurt you like you hurt me

by leiaesthetic



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fake Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29889321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiaesthetic/pseuds/leiaesthetic
Summary: “Aram, it’s me. Ressler is he…?” Liz couldn’t say the word out loud, refusing to believe in the mere possibility.Liz could hear Aram tearing up, then swallowing hard. “This is your doing. He’s dead because of you.”The phone slipped from Liz’ fingers, now shaking like her whole body.She whispered, “No, no, please…. Please not him.”Red and the taskforce take on extreme measures to get Liz.
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen & Donald Ressler, Elizabeth Keen/Donald Ressler
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Hurt you like you hurt me

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii ;-) This is set immediately after 8x09 "The Cyranoid"  
> Hope you enjoy this, I admit it is a bit unusual.

Ressler didn’t like this. The plan, he didn’t like it at all. Not because it was Reddington’s plan, well partly that was a reason, but Ressler’s main concern were the possible consequences if this would work.

He was in Cooper’s office which was beyond crowded at that moment, with Reddington sitting across from Harold at the desk, Dembe standing by his side, Park leaning against the door, Aram in the corner and Donald was just kind of stuck in the middle.

It was fitting considering he was the main part of Reddington’s oh-so-amazing plan to catch Liz.

“Donald, I duly notice your disgruntlement concerning my proposal, but I’m afraid your funeral would be the only event in the world that Liz would take risk for to attend.” Reddington spoke in his calm tone which was absolutely not representing the tension in the room.

“How do you even plan on getting Liz to believe I’m dead? If you just call and say I got shot, she’ll know it’s a hoax right away. She’s not stupid, you know.” Ressler said, provoking Reddington. He was still determined that this whole clusterfuck was entirely Reddington’s fault. If he would’ve just told Liz the truth, they wouldn’t be sitting here right now.

“Ok, so what exactly is the plan? We pretend Ressler got shot by the Townsend and hope Liz will come to his funeral so we can get her?” Aram voiced his slight confusion. 

“Exactly, Aram. We provoke a shootout with Townsend’s men, I got an anonymous tip were handle his finances. Dear Donald can barge in with his beloved FBI cavalry and put on a good enough show in getting shot in the chest. You did this before Donald, remember?” Reddington seemed overly fond of his plan.

“Even if, I agree to this and the message reaches Liz, I would have to involve my mom and my brother. Liz would smell a rat if they aren’t at my con-funeral.” Ressler tried to argue, he already hated this, being the bait to catch Liz.

“Then I suggest you call your dear mother, send her my best wishes.” Reddington got up, putting on his fedora. 

“I assume you would be able to put everything else into motion, Harold. I have the feeling that Cynthia Panabaker will enjoy this little charade just as much as I do. See you at your funeral, Donald.” And with that Reddington left, Dembe in tow. 

“Are you really giving your consent to this?” Ressler asked Cooper, searching for any way out of this.

“I share your concerns, but I’m afraid this might be our best chance to take in Elizabeth before she can make an even bigger mistake. I’ll arrange everything with Panabaker and the bureau. Aram, Park you take care of the ceremony.” Cooper gave his usual instructions as if this was just another blacklist case. The two Agents nodded, also leaving the Cooper’s office now. 

“I know this must be hard for you, Donald. The truth is I’m desperate, I don’t know how far Elizabeth has gone off the deep end, but we have to stop her. She will show up if she thinks its real so we will have to make it believable.” Cooper said.

Ressler simply nodded, he couldn’t share how he really felt about this, especially not with this boss. So he obliged, assured he’d get his family in on the plan and left for his office to make some calls. 

Staring at Liz’ empty desk became a habit during the last few weeks-but he still felt a small pinch in his heart every time. He didn’t understand himself why he had so many moral concerns about faking his death, Liz had done it before to him. She had done so many things that had hurt him, still he had a hard time bringing himself to hurt her the way she had hurt him. 

Maybe he could blame it on the fact that that just wasn’t how he was build, he wasn’t a revengeful person, normally, but he knew that that wasn’t all of it. 

He simply couldn’t bear the thought of being the one to hurt Liz, to go behind her back and betray her trust. Because he knew she trusted him and despite everything, he still trusted her.

He had proven that just two days ago when Liz’ doppelganger had held a gun to his head. He opened the gate not because he feared for his life, but because he genuinely wanted to let her go, knowing they had no play with her there. He knew Liz wouldn’t tell her to shoot him, but he also didn’t provoke it, wanting to make it easier on Liz.

The again, he thought maybe he was wrong and Liz didn’t care at all or at least not enough o take a risk to be at his funeral. Maybe she tricked him again and again and he was just a fool the believe her again and again. That, probably was his biggest fear, finding out that Liz didn’t care and that she was too far gone already.  
He sighed, accepting that he just had to wait and see how this would play out. 

The preparation had proven itself to be easier than he anticipated, his mother and brother didn’t ask any suspicious question on why he had to fake his death to catch a certain criminal, they agreed to help without further ado.

In the afternoon, he and Park raided the financial headquarter of Neville Townsend, Ressler pulled off his trick with the fake blood bag without a hassle and they made sure to let some of Townsend’s man escape so they told him and therefore Liz about the raid.

Park took some crime scene photos of “dead Ressler’s body” before he was covered with sheets and carried into a fake ambulance truck of Reddington. 

“Have you ever considered playing a dead body in a TV-show, Donald? I think you make an exceptional fresh-looking corpse.” Reddington said when Donald yanked the white sheet off of him as soon as was inside the safe house Red provided for him.

“Just do whatever it is you need to do and call me when I need to be there.” Ressler got up from the stretcher he had been laying on. 

“I will now tell our Lizzie the tragic news of your demise, you sure you don’t want to listen in?” Red said, more amused than he should be considering the situation.

Ressler didn’t reply but just left the room, loudly shutting the door behind him. 

Reddington had his way of getting Liz’ current burner-phone number, he just might have corrupted Skip to play double agent, but that was another story to be told. 

“Elizabeth, congratulations, you now have innocent blood on your hands.”

“Reddington? How did you… What do you mean?” Liz was to bemused to fully register she was on a phone call with the man she was trying to kill, calls with him still were registered as usual by her subconsciousness.

“Our dear Donald was shot in the chest, what a tragic loss, but who am I telling that, you knew there were gonna be casualties and Donald didn’t loose his life at the hands of my men, they were your men.” Reddington spoke in a fairly neutral tone.

Liz on the other end of the line was gasping for air and sank down on a leather armchair in Neville Townsend’s study.

After a long silence, Liz spoke again: “You’re bluffing, Red. I don’t believe you.” 

“Fair enough, that was everything I wanted to tell you anyway. Allow me one last question Lizzie, how does it feel having the blood of the last man who trusted you, maybe loved you even, on your hands? I imagine it’s a pretty eye-opening condition, isn’t it” Now Reddington just sounded spitefully honest.

Liz ended the call without saying anything else. She needed to be sure, this was just a trick of Reddington. She had heard that the FBI had raided Townsend’s finance office but hadn’t thought that there had been a lot of shooting. 

Hastily she dialed Aram’s number with trembling fingers, he answered immediately. 

“Aram, it’s me. Ressler is he…?” Liz couldn’t say the word out loud, refusing to believe in the mere possibility. 

Liz could hear Aram tearing up, then swallowing hard. “This is your doing. He’s dead because of you.” 

The phone slipped from Liz’ fingers, now shaking like her whole body. 

She whispered, “No, no, please…. Please not him.” 

Tears spilling from her eyes until they were red and burned like fire. 

She brought her knees up to her chin, slightly rocking back and forth.

Liz knew what was happening to her, she was being swept out to sea, because he wasn’t there anymore.   
After hours of sitting there, crying silent tears into the cold emptiness, Liz left Neville Townsend’s house, which had served as her hideout at the moment.

Tears continued to roll down her cheeks as she walked through the nightly streets and she comprehended one thing. 

Nothing.  
Else.   
Mattered.

Donald Ressler, the most honest person she knew, the boy scout, by-the-book agent, her loyal ally, best friend at some point, tiny island of calm was dead. 

Another cold body in the morgue, bullet wounds in his chest, his good and big heart no longer beating. 

So, no, nothing else mattered.

\------- 

Agent Donald Ressler’s funeral was set to take place on a rainy Friday afternoon at the Congressional Cemetery in Washington DC.

The group of people attending his funeral was quite large, his mother and brother, his colleagues on the task force, old friends and partners from Quantico, his boss Harold Cooper, his bosses’ boss Cynthia Panabaker and his bosses’ bosses’ boss the FBI Director himself.

A priest spoke some words about how dedicated he had been to his work, how he had died in service for his country, somehow weirdly highlighting the fact that he had no wife or girlfriend or kids to show for. 

Elizabeth was watching from afar, in the safe shadow of a large pine tree. She had dyed her hair strawberry blonde, was wearing a black coat and sunglasses. She assumed the team wouldn’t be on the lookout for her at Ressler’s funeral, but a big part of her also simply didn’t care.

She felt guilty for this, had been for the last few days, the guilt was eating her up, filling her until it overflowed in the form of tears.

When the ceremony ended and most of the guest left, his mother lingered at the dark wood casket a bit longer, putting the flower bouquet in the right place.

After she had then also left, Liz dared to approach the scene. She was conflicted, part of her wanted to run, ignoring that this was real and the other part was drawn to this wooden box, needing a final confirmation of the dreadful truth. 

Liz put a trembling hand onto the casket, whispering words of apologies and confessions to someone who would never be able to hear them.

“Everything I love is always taken from me and now I know, it’s me, it is my fault every time.” Liz said, he voice still barely above a whisper. 

Suddenly, she felt someone softly touch her shoulder.

She turned around to see through the tears in her eyes the man she believed to be lying in that casket in front of her.

And it that moment she didn’t feel played or betrayed, all she felt was immense relief, her tears spilling now for a different reason.

She put her arms around him in a bone-crushing hug, her fingers grasping the back of his jacket as he put his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. 

She hid her face in the crook of his neck, afraid of possible bystanders grabbing her and taking her away before she could fully grasp that Ressler was there and alive and breathing. His good, big heart still beating.

After a while she looked up, to be only met with him, there was no one else there to arrest her. It was just him and her, in the rain, at his fake grave.

Ressler looked her in the eye, not loosening his hold on her waist.

“Please, come in with me.” He almost begged, noticing he was also close to tears from having her back in his arms. 

“I will.” Liz said softly, caressing Ressler’s cheek.

“Nothing else matters.” She said, laying her head down on his shoulder one more time.


End file.
